A Picture Says A Thousand Words
by JTheGoblinKing
Summary: A picture says a thousand words... but how do you get it to shut up? A small introspection of the nature of Warehouse 13 using the literary character Dorian Gray from Oscar Wilde's The Picture of Dorian Gray.


A picture says a thousand words…

So how do you get it to shut up?

Disclaimer: Warehouse 13 belongs to the Syfy Channel. The story contains a small nod to the show The Dresden Files, currently the property of Lionsgate and based off the novels by Jim Butcher.

This story contains Dorian Gray from Oscar Wilde's novel, The Picture of Dorian Gray. I will not attempt to imitate Oscar Wilde's writing style. He's too good and I would just insult his memory with my effort.

I am using Ben Barnes incarnation of Dorian Gray from the new British film Dorian Gray because 1. It helps distance myself from Wilde so I don't feel like I'm disrespecting him by making a sequel to a classic work of literature but rather a sequel to a Hammer Horror-esque film adaptation. I will be borrowing aspects of the League of Extraordinary Gentlemen incarnation however looking at his portrait will NOT kill him.

For those unfamiliar with The Picture of Dorian Gray story it's about a young man who sold his soul for eternal youth. A painting of himself grows uglier every time he sins. Should the painting be destroyed he would die.

There is a small reference to The Dresden Files TV series. The Dresden Files TV series belongs to Lionsgate and based on the novels by Jim Butcher.

Some people might not like this fan fiction. It questions the ethics of Warehouse 13.

A picture says a thousand words…

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A picture says a thousand words…

'Those who go beneath the surface do so at their own peril.' – Quote by Oscar Wilde.

The security breach had to be a big one. No one knew how he had gotten in but the fact was he was in the warehouse, running down the long passages of crates and artifacts as if he knew the place as well as Artie did.

'He's heading east!' Pete shouted. He sounded winded.

Claudia was still in the 'gooery' where she had first spotted the strange intruder. Being the youngest and most ill-experienced of the Warehouse 13 staff she had been sent to check on the mechanisms of the device that made the purple substance used to neutralize the more dangerous and active of the supernatural actives that they confiscated and housed in the facility.

She was a pretty young thing with shoulder length red copper hair with a braid of bright purple falling along the side of her face. Her clothes were a hodgepodge of Early nineties grunge something vaguely steam punk. She was skinny and child-like yet in her build at the tender age of twenty-two. Myka (the female field agent) was only older than her by about five-years and yet at times it seems there was a great chasm between them in regard to how they viewed the world and behaved.

Claudia had always been very clever but it did not take a genius to hear the strange rattling of human weight precariously making it's way through the rafters like an elegant cat.

When Claudia had looked up she had been surprised to see in the shadows a slender looking young man wearing a cloak.

The cloak worked to obscure the man's face but he seemed young as he moved along the rafter like a cat. He was fearless as if the idea of a fall did not bother him in the least, like he had no fear of injury or death. The cloak worked to hide his face but the way he moved it did not serve to hide his clothes. He wore black shoes and black trousers.  
He had jeweled rings on a few of his slender fingers. A beautiful red stone was on the ring finger of his right hand. He wore black fingerless gloves as to not strain the palms of his hands and yet to show off the rings in the same act.

A black jacket that was a sort of Victorian-esque frock coat draped around him and seemed tailored for his body. Under the frock coat he had a reddish cranberry coloured vest with black buttons. Under the red, satin vest was a white shirt with a black, silk tie, the sort of thing that might have been fashionable a century ago. The clothes were definitely out dated, maybe by a hundred and nineteen-years or so.

The man carried in his hands what looked like an old walking stick. Who would carry such a prop while scaling the rafters except maybe to use as a weapon?

The strange man had realized he had been spotted and started to move through the rafters, climbing through them like a monkey. There was nothing strange, or supernatural, about how he did it. However he did seem to move with a certain carelessness.

Pete ran past the book case and shelf of 'unusual pottery'. He did not know what powers those vases and jugs had but he would check them out later. Myka was making her way through an aisle of toys. There were dolls with eyes that seemed to follow her, and a ball bouncing on it's own on a shelf that seemed to be beckoning to be played with. There was a teddy bear that grew more hideous the longer it was looked upon. Myka was very professional. She did not stop to gander at these artifacts.

They were hoping to head off the intruder but he had tricked them. As they came running to catch him in the Eastern part of the warehouse the man reached under his cloak and drew out an expanse of cord looped up in a bundle. At the end of the cord was a grappling hook of some sort. He threw this with expert precision across the rafters where it hooked itself at quiet a distance. The man tied his end of the cord securely to a beam and tested to make sure it was taut. He placed his opera cane into his belt so that it was tight against his body. After that he drew out a small metal object from his pocket that he fitted over the cord. He kicked off the rafter to give himself a start and he held tight with his hands clutched to the metal device as he glided down the tightly drawn cord.

'No! No! No! No! No!' Artie's panicked voice rang over the intercom. 'He's headed for The Dark Vault!'

The Dark Vault was the part of the warehouse where the most dangerous of the dangerous artifacts were kept. It was a dark enclosed area that was sealed off by a secured door where you had to punch in a code to gain access. The man knew the codes.

Within The Dark Vault artifacts were kept under circular purple lamps that surrounded them in a force field of light and energy of a similar compound to the purple neutralizing goop. The light bulbs in this area were coated in the neutralizer.

The man walked toward the farthest point of The Dark Vault to an area where a large painting was kept in a corner. The painting seemed to be that of a long dead corpse grinning menacingly out at the world. It's eyes were tiny, bright, fiery red embers and maggots seemed to crawl behind the eye sockets. The corpse had blackened, withered skin over the contours of it's face and hands. The claw-like fingers were dripping in bright, crimson blood. Smoke encircled the skull-like head. The teeth were yellowed and what little strands of hair it had were white. The hideous creature in the painting looked as if it was about to cackle or reach out and strangle a victim. The painting itself seemed to creek and groan with a secret, rasping of breath.

The man paused, shuddering privately at the sight of the thing. It took him a moment to work up the nerve to touch the old oak frame that also seemed to be in a state of decay and rot that was coming from within the painting itself. He finally took a hold of the frame, not daring to touch the actual canvas as if the loathsome thing might pull him in with it.

He unhooked the painting from it's mounting and that was when Artie had caught up with him.

Artie was slightly over weight and in his early sixties. He wore spectacles for reading. He had dark curly hair that had once been thick and full and was now just careless. His beard was short but not well groomed. He had a disorganized mad scientist look about him. He held an antique ray gun device designed by Nicolas Tesla aimed, not at the man, but at the portrait the man held. He held the Tesla gun steadily.

'Hold it right there, Dorian!'

At that moment the three agents, Myka, Pete and Claudia came into The Dark Vault behind Artie.

Myka was pretty in her late twenties. She was nearly twenty nine and she had thick dark hair that curled around her face. When she smiled (which wasn't that often according to Pete) her mouth was a little crooked and her lips were full.

Pete stood beside her. He had dark hair and a boyish look to him even though he was in his early thirties. There was a playfulness to his manner, a carelessness one could easily compare to the excited child-man of the Ray Stanz character from Ghostbusters.

Neither was smiling right now. The smallest of the three, Claudia, stared blankly at the man with the portrait.

Artie kept careful aim as he advanced on the cloaked figure. He drew back the cloak as if the thing had been worn in an act of insult against him.

When the cloak fell away the handsome young face was revealed. He was a beautiful man, ageless and youthful. He had shaggy, dark brown, hair and large, expressive eyes that could have been innocent and wondrous once but now looked cunning and cold. He was pale but not to an unearthly degree. He stood about six feet tall.

The man's expression hid all fear though the eyes carefully watched Artie's Tesla, masking the horror he felt at the weapon being aimed at the precious painting.

'You think I didn't know it was you?' Artie said coldly.

'What gave me away?' The young man's voice was cool and somehow sounded almost bored.

'I know your M.O. Not to mention your out dated sense of fashion.' Artie said.

The insult didn't seem to phase the young-looking man.

'I knew you'd come back for it sooner or later.' Artie said.

Now a trace of bitterness came into the young man's voice. 'You knew I couldn't stay away… Not for long anyway…'

'Artie, who is he?' Pete asked.

'THAT would be Dorian Gray.' Artie said with a hint of contempt.

Myka's mind clicked to the old Oscar Wilde novel. Having grown up with her father's bookstore as a figure of her youth had it's usefulness. 'THE Dorian Gray as in… The Picture of Dorian Gray? Oscar Wilde's Dorian?'

Claudia just stared blankly.

Pete looked at Myka for more on the exposition.

'He sold his soul for eternal youth. His portrait-'

'Is what sustains him.' Claudia said in awe at the realization.

'For every evil deed he commits the portrait grows uglier and uglier.' Myka said.

Claudia stared at the man as if he would confirm or deny this strange statement.

Dorian gave Claudia a smile that almost seemed flirting. 'The pure and simple truth is rarely pure and never simple.'

Artie kept the weapon aimed and reached out for the painting. Dorian reluctantly held out the large, framed image. Artie snatched it away from him.

'Pete, Myka,' Artie said 'Help me secure the artifact.'

Pete and Myka moved to take the painting from Artie, figuring it was too heavy.

'No. Not this. THAT one.' He nodded toward Dorian who stood giving Claudia a come hither look that made her both uncomfortable and annoyed at the same time.

Claudia was drawn away from the flirting by Artie's statement. 'What?! You can't be serious. He's a person!'

'THAT is a human body ONLY sustained by the existence of this painting. The very essence of the Remarkable Mr. Gray is fused in the molecules of old oil paint. Dorian Gray hasn't been a person in a long, long time.'

'What are you gonna do with him?' Claudia asked.

'With it. IT!' Artie corrected. 'Keep it here of course. Other than that I haven't decided yet.'

Pete and Myka moved to restrain the young looking man who didn't put up a resistance so long as Artie held the painting and that weapon.

Something twisted in the pit of Claudia's stomach 'But he seems so-'

Artie held up the painting for Claudia to see. The hideous corpse-like face grinned out at her. 'THIS is Dorian Gray. Look at it. That's IT'S true nature. You can't defend it.'

'Artie's right.' Pete said. 'Gray's a nasty piece of work. He's a killer for starters.'

Myka and Claudia both gave Pete a look as if to ask 'You read?'

'What?' He asked, guessing at their thoughts. 'I saw the movie.'

'Oh. Oh, yeah.' Artie said in his usual, jittery tone. 'Angela Lansbury was good in that.'

'No, not that one. The one with Tom Sawyer as a secret agent and Mina from Dracula as his ex.'

Artie and Myka gave Pete a look.

Dorian mumbled something under his breath that sounded like 'I wish.'

'I thought looking at his painting would kill him though.'

Dorian rolled his eyes. 'You watch too many movies.'

'It's only destroying the painting that will kill him. Oscar Wilde wrote his book as a warning after Mr. Gray escaped the warehouse last century.' Artie said.

'Oscar was too self-absorbed to hold my interest for very long.' Dorian said, sounding as if he was talking about an ex-lover. 'He should have been more absorbed with me.'

Artie ignored the statement and continued. 'Every few decades it seems to get loose but it eventually returns sooner or later for it's counter-part.'

'Well, you're not getting out this time, Mr. Gray.'

'Artie…' Claudia tried to protest. How could they keep a person here?

Dorian frowned. 'Do you have any idea what it's like to be trapped in a space where you can never see the sky? Do you know what's it means to live in a place without the stars, moon or sun? Do you know how it feels to live in a warehouse with no company? To be trapped so utterly that you start to forget what the sky at sunset even looks like?'

'Oh, you're breaking my heart.' Artie said dryly, without any real emotion.

'Besides, I've been on good behaviour.' Dorian said with a feigned smile of innocent boyishness.

'Only because you knew we'd destroy the painting if you pulled anything.'

'Can you blame me? At least I don't live for self-deception.'

'Oh, yeah. And what's that supposed to mean?' Artie asked.

'The spirit that is to give life to lifeless forms must be born in a man.' Dorian said. He broke himself free of Peter and Myka's grasp but since they sensed no immediate danger they didn't grab him to hold him again… just yet.

'It's easier to pretend everything you house in this warehouse are mere objects, THINGS for your collect.'

'That's all you are.' Artie said in protest. 'I've been burnt by things like you before. You can act human, seem human but you're not. You're-'

'Your, job, "Artie" is not merely to protect people from artifacts but artifacts from people.' Dorian said. 'I've been imprisoned here often enough to know your rules and philosophies. You forget each artifact is created by human will or infused with human spirit and activated by human intervention. Therefore artifacts bearing awareness, consciousness, personalities and or emotions are not mere objects.'

'No.' Artie said, shaking his head. 'I'm not listening to this. You only act like a person. But you're not. You're merely remnant. If you were really a person you'd have died a long time ago.'

'Really? And what about poor Alice?'

'Poor Alice?!' Artie sounded outraged. 'That mirror-'

'The girl IN the mirror,' Dorian interrupted 'Is the essence- the very soul of a mentally ill woman. Look at what you've done, you and your righteous people. You took a mentally disabled woman-'

'A killer!' Artie protested.

Dorian didn't heed him 'You took a woman who was clearly mentally disturbed and sentenced her to a fate worse than death. You looked her in a small, silent space, a cold, dark room with no company, no stimulation, just her own diseased thoughts in a small, dark space of silent, lonely, eternal Hell.'

Myka looked troubled. She, herself, had been trapped in that mirror briefly when Alice had escaped. She hadn't really sat down to consider what Alice might have suffered in there even though she, herself, had a brief taste of it. Of course Alice had done horrible things but when faced with the fact that it was the spirit of someone who was psychologically unwell this caused something in the pit of her stomach to churn.

'The poor kettle that yearns just to give people what they want… The American football that silently demands to be thrown, the artifacts that react to moods and even the skull of poor Hrothbert of Bainbridge.'

'That skull housed the malevolent consciousness of an evil alchemist and self-professed sorcerer!' Artie argued.

'Yes! That's just it. Hrothbert was a person and as a person he was capable of change. He redeemed himself and crossed-over before your people got a hold of the skull. If not for some paranormal investigator in Chicago that poor bastard would be languishing here in this pit with dear Alice.'

'Don't play the victim now, Mr. Gray. You surrendered your right to call yourself a person a long time ago. When the ONLY thing keeping you in this world is a sheet of canvas paper and some old oil paints and you proceed to spend your existence tempting the innocent, blackmailing people you call your friend, corrupting the young, whoring around, drugging it up-'

'Are we talking about Dorian Gray or a rock star?' Claudia asked Pete under her breath.

'-And killing people,' Artie said, 'you lose the right to call yourself a person.'

'Whatever lets you sleep at night, Artie.' Dorian said cynically.'

'What makes YOU think you can judge anyone?' Artie said. Artie loathed this. He knew he was falling for it's trap. It wanted him to keep talking, to let his guard down and view it as a person. He had been tricked by artifacts before. He knew he should not have been talking to it. He should find a way to keep it quiet before it could persuade the others.

'After everything you've done, you dare try to define what counts as human to us? You are not human. You will never be human again.'

Something in Artie's statement stung Dorian on a personal level. 'I have never denied that I have done terrible, monstrous things. And there has been a price. You're right. Perhaps I don't count as human.' He gave a bitter little smile. 'I can stand brute force, but brute reason is quite unbearable. There is something unfair about its use. It is hitting below the intellect.'

Dorian walked to Claudia and took her hand before she could protest. 'But maybe I'm more human than some others.'

'What do you mean by that?' Artie asked.

'I'm not the only one who broke into this warehouse today. There's someone here, a man working for someone named McPhearson and he's here to obtain the wish granting kettle.'

'How do you know this?' Artie asked. 'Are you working with him?'

'Certainly not!' Dorian protested. 'I don't work well with others. I'm only telling you this because…'

Dorian reached into Claudia's jacket pocket and drew out a set of scissors he had seen her using earlier to splice some loose wiring in the neutralizer processing centre (The gooery). And with perfect aim he threw the scissors toward a shadowy figure coming up behind them, just as a weapon similar to the Tesla was about to shoot Claudia in the back. The shadowy figure managed to fire. Dorian shoved Claudia to the ground, landing on top of her. The shadowy figure was wounded and hastily made a retreat.

Pete and Myka ran to go after the escaping person.

Claudia breathlessly looked up at the man above her. She'd have shoved him off but… God, he was hot.

'You… you saved me. Why?'

Dorian smiled coyly and then leaned down, whispering in her ear. His lips brushed against the lobe of her ear, vibrating the lobe. 'You treated me like a person while knowing who I am.'

Dorian climbed to his feet, leaving Cluadia to pull herself up right. He gave Artie a dramatic bow. 'Keep my portrait. I've decided it's probably safest for me if it remains here.' He said.

'Oh, no! You're not getting out of here that easily!'

'Artie, he just saved my life!' Claudia protested.

'For his own benefit.' Artie said suspiciously. There was no way Dorian would ever do anything selfless.

That's when Dorian seemed to remember his opera cane. He drew it out from under the frock coat where it had been resting in his belt. The base of the cane had acted as a sheath to hide a thinly bladed sword. Dorian held the rapier aimed.

'I'll destroy the painting, Dorian. I mean it.' Artie said. 'You're not getting out of here.'

'Artie!' Claudia protested. 'He hasn't been hurting anyone. Look, I know he's a really, really bad man.'

'Artifact!'

'Man!' Claudia was not going to patronize him this time. 'But he saved me. The least we can do is give him a head start. Come on… I owe him. Don't let me stay in his debt.'

Artie reluctantly lowered the Tesla. This was against his better judgment. This was stupid of him and he knew it. 'You have ten minutes.' He said to Dorian. 'Go…'

Dorian hastily made his escape.

Pete and Myka made their way back to Artie.

'We lost him.' Pete said to Artie of the man who had nearly killed Claudia.

'Where's Dorian?' Myka asked Artie.

Artie was putting the painting back where it belonged. He chose to ignore the strange happening in the portrait. The dead eyes with red Hell fire pupils were gone. In their place were large, expressive human eyes. Perhaps Mr. Gray was starting to see things in a humane way as he hadn't in a long time. Maybe there was more to Mr. Gray than Oscar Wilde had said or Artie wanted to admit.

Claudia looked at the painting. 'What if he's right?'

'What do you mean?' Artie asked.

'Where's the line? There are human monsters. And there are things that are human-like. Where's the line that divides us from the artifacts? I mean if all it takes is one of us is unlucky enough to get connected to an artifact than we're not really a storage warehouse anymore, are we? We're a prison.'

'Don't talk like that.' Artie didn't like to hear these things.

'What makes Alice an "it" but not Myka when she was in the mirror? Artie, there has to be a line. Who decides what's human?'

Artie was staring at the painting now- the human eyes looking back at him from the hideous host of over a century's evil. The eyes that hinted at hope for a human soul that had been corrupted by the power of an artifact and human hedonism.

'I don't know…'

The end… Maybe.

'Those who go beneath the surface do so at their own peril.' – Quote by Oscar Wilde.

'Man is least himself when he talks in his own person. Give him a mask and he'll tell you the truth.' – Quote by Oscar Wilde.


End file.
